


By Moonlight, By Daylight.

by Sing



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: AU, Comedy, Crossover, F/M, Let's see how I handle this, Nonsense, Not even vaguely canon in any universe, Romance, When the muse takes hold, basically a mishmash of two worlds that may or may not go at all whatsoever., tomfoolery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing/pseuds/Sing
Summary: Abbie Mills leads a completely average every day life. But a full one. Her and her sister are active members of their community, they mount protests, they're artistic, they're passionate about having their voices, heard making differences in the world.But it's never occurred to Abbie  that she might be fated to save it.But a stray black cat finds her after a successful protest.And the way the cat tells it......she has a destiny---one she doesn't remember.Beloved characters introduced to a Sailor Moon type world. With a lil SH mixed in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Sleepy Hollow nor Sailor Moon
> 
>  Comments are life! I'm serious! I NEED thoughts on this one because this TOTALLY tops my crazy fic scale! I adore you all! <3 
> 
> I have completely repurposed to Archives. It's more like a library/creative centre.
> 
> And I mean yes....Ichabod Crane is going to be our sorta jaded Darien/Tuxedo Mask.
> 
> So if you're familiar with the Sailor Moon arc, this going to follow that, but most likely not with the same character names.

The alarm.

Two brown doe eyes snap open and then remember. "No. oh no no no no!" she leaps out of the bed, dashing to and fro across the room. 

"Abbie!" her sister calls from downstairs. 

Upstairs she hops from one foot to the other putting on her shoes, also trying to unravel her twists at the same time, half chancing a glance in the mirror. "Shoot shoot shoot" she mutters, ransacking the room as she looks for her bag, grabs it and slinging it over her shoulder begins bounding down the steps, two at a time. 

"Abbie!"

"I'm here I'm here," she calls as she bursts into the kitchen snatching for the travel mug of coffee and taking a gulp as it sloshes over the brim. 

"That's the third time this week" 

"I know I know," she fusses, haphazardly cramming toast in her mouth.

"your shoes don't match" 

"Hmm?" she finally looks up to meet eyes with her sister, wavy tresses cascading down her shoulders and an amused expression on her face. She nods to her older sisters feet. 

"Your shoes,"

Swallowing Abbie glances  down. Yep. One red converse, one green. With a groan she rolls her eyes and hears her sisters laughter. 

"You're losing a grip," She ribs.

"I'm just so flustered these days Jenny."

Jenny huffs and hefts her bag. "Apparently. That's the third time you've slept in this week and that's not like you"

Her sisters expression goes guarded and Jenny's brown furrows. 

"Where are my boots" Abbie grouches, turning out of the kitchen. 

"Same place you left them when you kicked them off last night in the doorway before I unceremoniously tripped over them and saw my life flash before my eyes." she drawls. 

Abbie kisses her teeth before her eyes land on the beloved pair by the door. Scuffed up old things she's had for a few years but they're comfy and a little rustic and go with her moto jacket, tank and jeans better than the colourful converse. "Aha!" she whoops triumphantly as she puts those on instead and then looks back at Jenny, exasperated. "Well aren't you coming?"

Jenny finishes her coffee and gets the door, placing a hand on Abbie's shoulder. "You sure about this?"

"One last arrest and that ought to tide me over for a while." 

Jenny grins. "Well let's go then."

* * *

 

"This building is a fount of knowledge that should not be tramped and stomped upon!"

Abbie rolls her eyes. She's chained up five people down from the pretentious speaker with Jenny opposite. They've done these before, the Mills Sisters advocate for any cause that strikes them, and preservation of these Archives---yes a fount of knowledge---should be left behind for the generations to come after them.

The Archives, not only an academic playground but a long time gathering place for upstarts at Sleepy Hollow U has become an underground in plain sight for poetry readings, open mics, a space that has been invested in and expanded to encompass the ever changing and growing face of society. Where all people, no matter race or creed, can learn, share, and explore. 

The idea that the city wants to tear it down had galled many---least of which being the towns most rebellious, opinionated, loudmouthed historian---Ichabod Crane. 

Speaking of which a Crane is being raised and swung in a menacing proximity but they're all chained along the front so.....someone had better yield--or they're all about to go splat. 

"We will not stand idly by---" 

"Come on we've got work to do" one of the workers yell in annoyance. "I got a wife and kids to support and you're messing with my money man"

"Our voices will be heard!" he continues. "Countless young minds have been opened and inspired here! Poetry that could shake your soul and music that gives your heart hope!"

"Dusty words my kids will never know existed cause I can't afford for them to go to college cause you won't let me do my job!" the worker retorts haughtily. 

"Who elected him to be speaker on this one?" Abbie grumbles.

Jenny bites back a laugh. "You were out sick when they voted." 

Crane is still expounding on the virtues of the centre while they chant when Abbie says aside to Jenny "Guess it's fair since I headed the last three?"

"A point he made, by the way." Jenny chuckles before bellowing. "Keep the Archives Alive!" 

"What?---Keep the Archives Alive!--- he said what?"

"He said he feels it's unfair to expect you to shoulder the burden of representing all of us all the time--that we all have voices, so we should raise them"

"Well he certainly carries." she smirks before resuming the call with the others. 

"Alright alright, break it up, folks" A familiar voice bellows out through the crowd and the Mills women smile. That's their insider. 

"I've got you in to talk with the developer next week. Demo is halted." August Corbin, Sleepy Hollow sheriff announces as he strides forward. 

"We---! oh, how fortuitous" Crane stops mid bellow. "So they won't tear it down the minute we are unshackled and dispersed?"

Corbin shakes his head. "Nope, they've been pushed to heavy reconsideration due to how much racket you all have made today. You've won for now. Who's got the keys?"

After, when he's strolling down the line, unlocking one by one he shares a grin with the Mills Girls. "Your mother would be proud of you two" 

"Thanks August," they chime, rubbing their wrists as they step down and embrace their fellow protestors, whooping their triumph. At the other end Crane respectfully shakes hands with their peers. 

"And what do ya know, didn't have to haul any of you in today." he chuckles. 

"Which means," Jenny rubs her hands together. "Pie and ice cream tonight?"

"Eh take that up with the boy, he's working shift tonight. Good work girls." he gives a salute and marches briskly away. The women smile as they wave them off and then clear their throats and square their shoulders as all six foot and something of Ichabod Crane strides towards them.

 

 

They've known Ichabod Crane for years. His parents were killed in a fatal crash, and thus became an orphan at a young age. He got bumped around awhile in the system before he was properly adopted, a wealthy well to do man looking for a successor--who was also direly ill. Left Crane the whole lot at the age of seventeen. He took off from Sleepy Hollow back then, on a hunt to discover the lineage of the parents he had lost abroad. Returned worldly, wiser, if not a bit contemptuous of anyone who had a sense of belonging. In spite of being born and raised here--Ichabod has since felt adrift. Maybe that's why his dedicated to old things, to the past, to history is so rampant---someone's got to remember them, remind people of their worth--even if there might not be anyone to do as much for him. 

So for this reason, him and the Mills girls, don't always see eye to eye. Oh, they come together for common cause, but they find him blustery and a bit full of himself and he finds them well, unfairly happy and grounded in their lives that as far as he knows---have known little tumult. 

Especially the shorter Abigail Mills. She challenged and irked him in equal measure. 

"The Sisters Mills," he greets.

"Crane," they nod. 

"Another day another win,"

Abbie nods. "You lead a good charge, Captain," she smirks and Ichabod frowns. He took a....interesting turn his choice of wardrobe not long ago, perhaps because he already felt so out of place in every day life why not distance himself further---and the town had bestowed him with the moniker that is usually not used in a kind fashion. And coming from her mouth....it feels like  a malicious taunt. Which given his propensity for off handedly mentioning her height, it might very well be. "Go home and celebrate," she claps his shoulder and shouldering her bag links arms with Jenny and the two go sauntering away, slinging their arms around the others, Caroline, Andy and Calvin. 

Off for drinks, to reminisce, to share ideas for their next project or cause, he presumes. 

Straightening his collar, he staunchly ignores the fact that he was not invited.

* * *

 

"Hey, dad told me it went well" Joe Corbin, August's son, comes out from behind the counter. He's  part time manager here at Mabie's the diner arcade hybrid that draws crowds of all ages in Sleepy Hollow. The girls parted with their friends outside who are helping Calvin work on a mural. Artistic though the Mills girls are, painting is  _not_ their chosen medium. Jenny's in two dance troupe's and Abbie juggles all of her activism with her gift of music. And they both take pole and traxx for exercise. Because why the hell not. They're the wild girls of town and everyone knows it, why not embrace that? It makes them more fearless and bold, that for sure. And gives them a whole lot less time to miss their mother or the father they never knew. 

"We don't lose Corbin," Jenny chimes. "So, apple pie's on the house right?"

"You'll ruin us Mills, you really will" he scolds but all for show because he is already bring the plates over. When he sets them down he shoots a special glance at Jenny, giving her a wink and Abbie hollers. 

"Hey her piece is bigger than mine!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. " Joe grins, smiling dumbly at Jenny as he saunters away and Jenny's face colours. Abbie crows with laughter. 

"God is he sweet on you," 

"Shut up" she grumbles back while she texts. 

"That August?"

"Yeah I'm letting him know we're here when he gets off beat." she says, slipping the phone back in her pocket. They've always done it, back when their mother worked late Corbin looked after them, would bring them all right here to this same weathered old booth, peeling red fabric and peek a boo stuffing and the grey green tables---that real old malt shop feel--an odd juxtaposition with the pinging and zinging of the arcade machines in the back half of the establishment. But Corbin used to swing by the house when he got off, lil Joe sitting in back of the squad car and usher Abbie and Jenny in beside him and bring them here, order root beer, milkshakes, and applie pie and vanilla ice cream,  waiting out the hour until Lori should be getting home before he dropped them back off. 

Even with their mother's passing, that tradition has held. 

Joe returns with their usual grown up now coffee and spooks when he looks up in the window. Abbie turns around and comes eye to eye with a cat sitting on the window sill. "Jeez," Joe pants. "Sorry I wasn't expecting it."

Jenny cocks her head at the creature but instantly loses interest. 

Abbie however can't look away. 

It's a black cat, with a pretty collar around her neck. And eyes that seem to wise for a feline. The cat stares back at her and Abbie makes shooing motions at it but it refuses to move. "Hey what time is it," she asks absently. 

Jenny lights up her phone. "Eight fifteen....." 

Joe frowns. "Dad told me he was getting off early today. Seven something."

Jenny shrugs, "probably traffic."

The cat hasn't moved and instead has begun prowling back and forth, eyes fixed on Abbie as it goes and her skin prickles. "You know if that cats lost someone should take it to the shelter," she says, excusing herself even amidst her friends protests Abbie slings on  her jacket and hustles outside but once in the parking lot finds nothing. "Here kitty kitty," she calls softly. A rustle in a bush draws her attention but then the streak of black darts out and down the street. "Hey!" she calls, waving after it. "Hey come back here! I won't hurt you!"  but the cat keeps going and part of her says, abandon  it, its just a stray. 

 _That's probably going to get hit by a car_ , her mind counters and then she's taking after it again. They're animal folks, the Mills. Their mother was constantly fostering animals in transition, so if it wasn't the Corbin's, it was the animals keeping them company. So she's got a sort of die hard commitment to animal welfare. She helps out with adoption days down at the local Shelter. In the midst of her wild following the cat suddenly goes still, fixing her with its eerie gaze. 

"Come on, boy? girl?" she coaxes, kneeling with a hand outstretched "Let's get you someplace safe, hmm?" but the cat stares her down before turning tail, literally, and begins a more purposeful walk onto what Abbie recognizes as abandoned property. Her gait slows. "hey kitty, this is no place for pretty kitties like you, let's get out of here"

The swivels its head around defiantly at her begins to prance away into the shadows of the dark barn. Cursing Abbie swallows and runs after it. "Hey" she yells, irritated now. "I'm just trying to help but you're being really difficult." 

Something brushes by her leg and almost screams when she hears the warm purring sound. "Damn cat," she mutters, bending and feeling around until her fingers bunch its fur and she hauls it up into her arms. She fumbles in her jacket with her free hand for her phone, switching on the flashlight, sweeping it high, then low and.....

Blood.

Speck, after speck, after speck. 

"No you should not be here," she says to herself, in a level of forced calm, even as she advances further, following the trail. She keeps sweeping the light ahead of her and her pulse quickens when the beam lands on a pair of feet. Tears startle to her eyes as she sweeps upwards  and she drops her phone, clapping a hand  over her mouth. "No," she says softly, disbelieving and broken, " _No"_  

And then she hears the chuff of a horse. 

And she looks over her shoulder.

And screams. 


	2. Chapter 2

He was seven when it happened. When the car went off the road on a sharp turn, careening into the water. He remembered the panic of his mother flustering to break the window but then laden and soaked in her dress---they'd been on the way home from a family friend's wedding, she'd been a bridesmaid party---his father in suit and him a sharp little tux as ring bearer, but the fine fabrics were no friends to them in a sinking vehicle. His father had been side swiped by an unruly driver. Clipped him on the side and the air bag had deployed. His father was half knocked out already before they'd hit water. And his mother, bless her, struggling to free her son and herself couldn't spare a moment to save him. Someone had called for aid, had seen the accident, must have. He remembers the fear shimmering in his mother eyes as she unfastened the seat belt and pulled him out of the window she'd broken, breaking the surface with him before her dress tugged her back down---treacherously caught in the car door. He remembers the feeling of her arms releasing him  before she vanished, receding back into the depths, still reaching for him as she went.  

That had been the first time he'd dreamed her. A princess, a Queen, a Goddess, had come to him, small as he was and promised him a refuge, a home. That he would grieve and mourn this tragedy yes but do not fear, Ichabod, because you will always have a place here, at my side. 

The image had been hazy. A shining light that when he reflects could have been nothing more than the sun glaring through the water as he himself began to drift back under. The melodious voice conjured by a fanciful boyish mind. But in that brief moment of terror and fear, it had given him hope. That he was not alone. She was there for him and always would be. Before the darkness claimed him.

When he came to, it was in a hospital bed and his head had been bandaged. There was a girl bedside, two puffs of black tight curls on her head. She'd been peering at him curiously. "Hello,"

He'd opened his mouth to speak but then had been cruelly reminded of his reality. His parents were dead. He was an orphan. Instead of words had come a terrible sob, compounded with a headache and all he could do was heave in misery until her small neat hand had closed over his. "My momma had a baby" the girl had said. An entirely irrelevant piece of information given his inner turmoil but he'd choked off long enough to ask amid his tears.

"Oh?"

She'd bobbed her head. "Mhmm! I'm going to be an excellent big sister." she'd grinned. "We're downstairs. Come meet her,"

"Abigail?" a nurse had called, entering the room. "Your parents are looking for you," she'd held out her hand and just like that the little girl had gone and Ichabod had been once more left alone to face the abysmal life that lay ahead of him. 

* * *

They'd hit him at the first two homes, because he'd cried so much.

The third had loved him, crowded him with therapy sessions to attempt to heal from the trauma of his first placement. But then they became pregnant, with twins, and it wasn't that they didn't love him, but even with funds they had said they couldn't afford to keep him. They'd been very sad to see him go. 

The fourth had been a crotchety cold wealthy man. Didn't dote, and didn't pamper and didn't have a kind word to utter. Hired the best nannies and tutors and made sure he was a proper, educated, well mannered boy well into his youth. Adopted him, called him son, shared his affection through books more than anything, assigned readings for Ichabod to do and then report back on. And then had never bothered to mention when he got ill. Much less that he had left Ichabod everything. 

So there he was, seventeen and master of the house at Frederick's Manor. Alienated from his school peers for the man had been so miserable and unwelcoming no one had ever come to visit, neither him nor Ichabod. He was a mystery at school, to class and back home. High grades though. Liked by teachers. 

Abandoned again, he'd gone rummaging through the Archives---he was tall for seventeen, and surly enough not to raise brows of the University students working away there---and had happened upon some old, old, texts. Of all things had managed to find his name in one, and on a lark, an inheritance and all ripe for the picking, he deferred from post secondary study, booked a ticket, and was gone. 

He only meant to go for a week, or two. 

But it would be four years. 

Returned then, twenty one years old, starting his masters at Sleepy Hollow U having finished his Bachelors Degree at Oxford.  That same year seventeen year old Abbie Mills, smart, sharp, and a little confrontational, would be in his first year History Tutorial. Counteracting, interrupting, and challenging him, on every single point, quiz, test and grade. 

Estranged. 

Knowing  _of_ one another but never  _knowing_ each other. And aside from tense collisions in the halls on the way to one protest or debate or conference or another, it stayed that way. 

And of course, when she took American History II in her second year as an elective and he _had_ groaned to see her name on his attendance list----well suffice to say, their acrimonious warring did little to make either one of them fond of the other. 

It would be on accident that he would read one of her numerous publications in the school paper, a piece she'd submitted for Black History, that he had been sufficiently moved, and needless to say so irritated with her brilliance he'd all but begged her to come to the Archives to share it. She'd protested, he'd badgered, insisting, that if she was going to be so bent on being such a good scholar she had better get up the nerve to share her work. To be heard outside of his small space during his office hour. 

She won the crowd over, not surprisingly. He was annoyed if not grudgingly proud of her. She became a regular there with no further invitation from him. Found a circle of open minded bright friends like herself. Once she was out his class he was relieved of their quarrels and instead a distant, aloofness of the other took its place.

Never to be friends or peers but at the least the smallest, infinitesimal, modicum of something that could very vaguely, if you squint, approximate respect. 

Enough to survive the others presence when years later, their interests throw them together again, and again for a cause. 

They still grate each others nerves. 

* * *

He'd stopped dreaming the princess for nearly ten years. While he'd been away, searching for himself she'd come to him. A little angry. Chastising him for running away. From what? he would demand, only to have her turn her back on him, in all her writhing white gauzy away, a veil fluttering across her face or else the wisps of clouds and the moon light besides obscuring her features, and disappearing before he could reach her. 

His return to Sleepy Hollow back then had staunched the dreams. He'd forgotten her, until tonight. 

He throws himself down on his bed in the empty creaky now, house. Closes his eyes, and sleep comes, swift and stealthy, and all at once she's there before him again. 

He's taller than she is now. But she has changed. Her voice is warmer, richer. But still she does not turn so he can see her face. "Help," she murmurs, head bowed. 

"What?"

"I need you."

"After all this time what could you possibly want?"

"To save the world."

He blusters. Even in dream he is an irritable grump. 

"Have I not always been beside you?"

"No you have not! He snaps back. No one has ever been beside me---not ever---"

But then a pain lances across him, and he holds his head. 

"Memory has been unkind to you. But there will be time. For now, I beg you, help me,"

"How" he hisses angrily. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Yours." she answers simply, with a surety and finality that makes his heart stop, fills him with unspeakable deep feeling. "And you are mine. Don your coat, and fight,"

_"Fight?"_

"Ever my champion" she whispers before cloud rush over takes her again whisking her away. When Crane jolts awake he finds himself in a dark military blue coat, staunch, official thing. He sits up, bewildered, confused as he glances at his shoulders, on which rests silver armour, and  a sword at his belt. A broad hat rests on the bed beside him. Curious twitching fingers reach for it, place it atop his head. 

And forgets everything. 

* * *

 

The horse, too tall, too black with eyes of flames and a monstrous impossible rider charge towards her. Abbie falls to the ground, rolling with the cat out of the way as the horseman charges past the body of her beloved family friend, August Corbin, reaching to snatch up a glittering orange jewel that was hovering over a gaping wound in Augusts chest. 

Her limbs are  _flooded_ with fear. "No." she scrambles, after the horseman has left, rising to her feet and staggering to the open barn doors, but then turns back, falling beside Corbins body, tears making her vision waver. "I don't understand," she whispers, taking his hand in hers. Still warm. 

The cruel unfairness of it. 

"We don't have much time"

She flinches and turns over her shoulder only to be confronted with a woman. A beautiful kind brown skinned woman, with her dark dresses elegantly arranged in a beautiful cream gown. Abbie scampers back on hands and feet. "Who are you," she asks, staggering to her feet. "Where did you come from--who are you" she demands. 

The woman smiles at her benevolently. "I am your Guardian, Abbie. You are to call me Grace."

"Guardian? Like what, an angel? How did you  _get_ in here?" because please tell her this woman hasn't just been lurking in this barn the whole time. Grace cocks her head, a little impatient and amused at once. 

"I've been with you the whole time, Abbie."

"There was no one in here with me but that stray cat, Corbins dead body and that thing that just rode out of here and---- _no_ " Abbie blinks, arriving at a conclusion she does not like one bit. "You are not trying to tell  _me_ that"

"I was the cat." Grace finishes. "Well, am, the cat." she waves a hand dismissively in the air. "What I mean to say is, you have a calling to save the world. Evil beings have followed us here."

"Us? Who is us?"

Grace shakes her head irritably, reaching up to her neck she grasps the pendant the dangles there---the same one that had been on the cats collar and hands it to her. Abbie stares at it in bewilderment. "Well go on" Grace insists, brows snapped together. "You've got another minute before he rises, take it."

" ** _Rises?"_** Abbie blinks, looking over her shoulder at the only person Grace can be alluding to and feels shivers run down her spine when she notices an orange vapour rising off his body, that his fingers twitch. "What the hell---"

"Take it!" Grace hisses. Abbie snatches the pendant and when she looks down notices its the shape of a book. 

"What do I do with this?" Abbie snaps? backing up, watching in complete horror as Corbins hand forms a fist, and then begins to grow. 

"Open it!" Grace rasps, bunching her skirts and backing away with Abbie. "Open it and say 'I call upon my Ancestors"

Abbie gapes at her. 

"Abbie!" 

"Are you kidding me?"

"Question later!" and in a swish of skirt, Grace once more becomes the pretty black cat, darting out of the barn. 

"Hey!" Abbie calls angrily and then hears a groan. "Oh that can't be good," she mutters to herself when she glances over her shoulder. 

There's August alright. Gaping whole in his chest, standing seven feet tall with hands that look like giant sledge hammers and eyes blazing fire. Horns curl up out of his head. And he, looks, mad. 

"Shoot" Abbie curses and takes off at a high powered run into the night. Pendant still clutched tight in her hands. A monstrous roar erupts behind her and the hair lifts from her scalp.  _Gotta get help, get, a priest, or something, anything._ Another roar, when she looks back he swings out an arm that stretches, elongates and swings above her head. She drops to the grass to dodge it and scrambling gets to her feet again, sprinting back down the street towards the church. The Reverend Knapp. She thinks. He can exorcise whatever had possessed Corbin. That's the answer. 

When she reaches the church however that terrible rider is racing away, and lumbering out the entrance is a blue tinged scuttling beast with a face she recognizes. It got the reverend. He's become a.....thing the way Corbin has. And the cat has vanished, and she had nothing but a stupid pendant. 

_Say the words Abbie. Don't be afraid._

"Grace?"

no answer. 

Breath coming hard Abbie pries her thumb into the tiny book and is surprised when it begins to grow in her hands,  sized into an ancient looking tome. She stares at it in shock, shaken only by the sound of two beasts now prowling outside the church, presumably looking for her. "I call upon my Ancestors," she says breathlessly, desperately. Nothing happens. "I call upon my Ancestors" she chants again, louder, and now she can hear them changing direction toward her hidden wall. "I call upon my Ancestors!" 

And then something happens. 

Boy, does it ever. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine this moment like the most cinematic theatrical anime superhero transformation montage you can imagine.

The pages explode out of the book, fluttering wildly around her, bits of parchment, weathered and old they keep coming, each leaf ripping itself from the binding and causing a whirlwind and then they break apart, fragile, tatters into confetti. 

The wind that accompanies this event is strong and Abbie releases a shocked gasp as the bits of ancient paper now swirl around her, she shields her eyes as they whip around her crown down to her feet. 

She doesn't notice that she's floating. 

Barely registers the confetti fixing itself to her clothes, dissolving, paving over the garments she wears and knitting themselves together as a new whole. She doesn't even bother to register the curious burning in her shoulders. There is whistling, chimes, music and crackling flames in her ears and when she dares to open her eyes, Abbie has become something else, entirely. 

Wings gilded in white flames extend from her shoulder blades. Her tank and jacket traded for an upper bodice in shimmering silver and starlight, like a universe, a constellation, the cut not unlike the gown Grace had worn, and a billowing gauzy starlight skirt trails behind her. It cuts high and wide in the front, split up the middle to reveal her legs clad in the same shifting material and the tall glimmering boots that come to her knee. Sparks dance at her gloved fingertips, Mystified Abbie does inventory, failing to understand what has transpired here when the remaining spine of the book grasped in her hand snaps and the covers morph themselves into neat, brilliant twin blades. They catch and reflect the moonlight but also when she turns them, show her a glimmer of a Sun.  

 She lands on the ground. Wearing the most resplendent, strange armour she has ever seen. When she turns, parts of her wink and out of view, the gown morphs and reflects her surroundings, providing invisibility but it dizzies her. The moment she thinks it, her garments flash into visibility, a glimmering white, but still there is movement in it, stars that race and words zipping to and fro behind the cloud cover. She pinches the fabric between her fingers, studying it and a page floats up to her fingers. The cloth has depth, she realizes. More pages rush to her fingers and insanely Abbie wishes it into her hands. 

There it is. She's just pulled a page out of her skirt. "What," her head snaps up, shaken, direly confused. 

"You need to save them."

Abbie whips around to find Grace perched primly on a gravestone, craning her neck around the wall where there are disturbing growling sounds drawing closer. 

"You need to tell me what this is," Abbie counters, stretching out her arms. "What is this thing, it's like space crafted into a dress,"

"Exactly."

"That tells me  _nothing_. What IS this?"

"You're a warrior, Abbie. It's your lineage. Rise out of ashes, transcend the confines of earth and space. That's why your armour is made of it."

"You've mixed me up," Abbie says, trying to rip the skirt that won't give, to pluck the feathers on her back but she cannot reach. "I am not, whatever it is you think I am here. I'm----"

"More than you have ever given yourself credit. There is wickedness in the world, you well know it. You have long wanted a way to fight it."

"I'm a grown woman, dress up is for children,"

"You'd be correct if it was just a dress," Grace scolds. "And those wings just for show and those daggers were play things but they are not," she snaps. "They are armour for  war"

"What am I supposed to do, huh? stab them to death? From what I see they're risen corpses."

"The Horseman has taken from them because they hold pieces to a valuable treasure within them, when extracted by creatures of darkness they take on the essence of their creator, if you can purge them---"

"What, they'll...be alive again? And the Horseman keeps, whatever?"

"It will have to do for now." Grace concedes, clearly not pleased with the prospect herself. 

"What do I do with this?" Abbie asks at last brandishing the page. 

"You---meowww!" in a blink Grace has transformed and begins to dart away. 

Might have something to do with the monsters that have just rounded the corner. 

* * *

He stalks the street, eyes narrowed, listening for any hint of sound when he hears a furious war cry of a yell and animal grunting. He runs toward the sound, toward the graveyard of the church and grinds to a halt.

A woman made of the cosmic skies and wings fights against a horned mutant and grunting monstrosity, wearing the face of a clergy man turned upside down. She dodges and twists out of the way of the horned man, swinging his stretching thunderous hands at her in the air as she darts, turn, winks out of sight only to appear behind him, swiping madly at his head. Sweat beads on her face but she keeps fighting. The beast grows two more human heads that shoot venom from their mouths and she freewheels and tumbles out of their way, vanishing, reappearing again and landing a solid kick to one face that crumples into ash before being replaced by another. 

Hand to his sword he strides forward.  _Don your coat and fight._ He draws. 

"Hey!" the ethereal creature calls as she sees him approaching. "Hey this is not a civilian event" she warns and just then a hammer hand slams into her back, sends her flying into the wall of the church. She hangs there a minute, trembling from the impact, absorbing that astonishing supernatural pain coursing through her body before she falls to the grass, bent over, trying desperately to breathe, to lift her head, to move before another blow comes. 

There's a howl instead. She cracks an eye open to notice there's a horn at her feet and Corbin is staggering around in a wounded rage, now aiming for the interloper who unceremoniously just hacked off one of Corbin's horns. She clenches her fists, grits her teeth and curses to see the Knapp creature charging towards her. Shutting her eyes tight she reaches for one of her daggers and throws it at the main head. It lodges there and white smoke begins curling out of the wound as all the eyes on his multiple heads roll back. It begins to thrash, belatedly, and Corbin smacks the mystery man out of the way before lumbering over to help it. 

She finally gets to her feet. Her wings beat weakly and they sting from damage. She takes their moment of distraction to scour the shadowy grass. The sheet she'd been holding before they'd attacked had fluttered out of her grasp and she's overcome by the sense that she needs it. 

There it is. 

When she bends for it though, a foot has stomped down on it. She looks up but she cannot see his eyes for the shadow cast by the brim of his hat. She can see his coat now though, regal dark blue and the polished buttons. The glinting sword and the armour. "Look I appreciate your help but I need that,"

"What is the meaning of all of this?" he asks.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Get off the sheet." she commands him and he reluctantly moves, if only so he can draw his weapon again and knock the now freed but seriously injured Knapp aside. He falls onto his back, his four clawed hooves kicking in the air while Corbin turns on them once more, all the more menacing with a horn torn off. He looks decidedly deranged. 

"Any moment now will do," the man whispers out the side of his mouth.

"Sssh!" she hisses, eyes scanning the page. 

 _Your Loyalty fills the voids left by the false hearted, and bolsters the ship against ill tides._ Abbie swallows, turning with page in hand.

* * *

 

 

 

 

They've always been able to set a clock by August. After their father left and their mother needed the help looking after them. He stood by them. He believed in them. 

Bolstered them against ill tides. 

__

* * *

 

"Madam if you please!" the stranger huffs. 

Abbie draws her dagger, stabs it through the sheet and with great strain launches herself into the air. Corbin's demented form watches her go, hungrily following her path as she lands on the other side of him, he charges at her before she turns, letting her armour glamour and give her cover as she changes direction and plunges the dagger and sheet into his heart. 

White smoke begins to rise but there is nothing now to remove it. His remaining horn recedes, his arms shrink, his hands become human. He crashes to his knees. 

The sheet dissolves and her blade returns to her, flying back into her hands dangerously fast, almost too fast to catch. The stranger stands at her side, watching in awe as the monster becomes a human and the wound in his chest heals. 

At the other end, the Knapp creature still grunts and snarls. Biting her lips together she plunges her hand back into the skirt and another page floats up.  _Your Faith is a balm and comfort._ She grasps the sheet, stabs it through and finishes what she started the first time. He goes less quietly than Corbin did, but at least his limbs are contorting back into those of a man. And his face smoothes out into the occasionally dour but kind face that she knows instead. 

"You have things well in hand." The man says and she turns again, exasperated by this night, his appearance, still caught in mid grief because she's not even sure what she's just done to two men in one night with an enchanted, cosmic armour dress, and blade. 

But somehow this life is hers now. 

"I am only regretful I could not be of more help."

"Name" she demands, because she feels like she's spent entirely too much time starting her questions with 'what' and 'who' and frankly they didn't yield satisfactory answers. She can feel him eying her beneath the brim of that hat and she's annoyed she can't see his eyes as he reaches up, tips it to her respectfully and then strikes a bow. 

When he answers, there's a vague hint of amusement to it. "Ever Her Champion, she said. I suppose that will do." 

"Champi---come back here!" 

But then he is striding away into the darkness, long silhouette vanishing from sight. She thinks to give chase but sounds behind her makes her hair raise. "Please no," she mutters as she turns around and then blinks. August Corbin sits up, patting himself and his head, looking positively bewildered. across the way, Reverend Knapp turns his head, questioning his position on the grass. 

"They're alive," she huffs in disbelief. "They're...."

"You'd better transform," Grace whispers and Abbie whirls, blades drawn. Grace raises her hands in a mild placating matter. Abbie pinches the bridge of her nose as she stows her knives. 

"You need to stop sneaking up on me, I'm not kidding."

"They're going to be in a haze for a while, but you'd better turn back before they get their bearings"

"And _what_ did I just become?" 

"Abbie," Grace warns, nodding over. 

Abbie grunts in frustration and tugs uselessly at the skirt and gloves that don't budge. "Well what do I do?"

"The pendant,"

"Oh you mean the one that turned into a  _book_ , then _exploded into a dress_ and then became  _two daggers?_ "

"The same," Grace answers primly in a way that suggests Abbie is the one being slow here. 

Rolling her eyes Abbie grasps the two knives that made up the spine of the book and brings them side by side. The moonlight glimmers off the surface and suddenly Abbie is shrieking as paper flutters around her, flying up out of the fathomless depths of this universe garment and back into the book. Her wings and all, fold back up like origami into an ordinary sheet, file back into the covers of a book, slam shut and shrink to the bauble size it was before. Restored to her normal clothes. 

Abbie looks herself over, astounded. When she looks up Grace looks smug. "I'll meet you back at the house Abbie,"

"Wait, please, I can't do the half answers anymore tonight, don't go, please."

"At the house," Grace insists. "We'll talk then. Go check on them." She nods her head at her and begins walking away, the same path the 'Champion' took and then there isn't a woman anymore at all, just a black cat holding her head too high. She grasps the tiny charm in her hand and shoves it in her pocket. Her head is pounding and her limbs are  _sore_.

"Abbie?" 

But August is alive, don't ask her how, she supposes that's something Grace will explain. That and the jewels the 'Horseman' stole before he turned the two men into nightmares. "Hey, August." and the excitement of the night, the fear, the strength she'd been forced to find and wield tonight, chooses tears as its medium of expression. 

He gets to his feet, staggering some as he approaches. "Hey, hey, hey what's wrong? You hurt?"

She shakes her head vigorously and throws her arms around him in a hug. "I'm alright August."

"Why....why am I here?"

"Let's go get pie, huh? Joe and Jenny are waiting." her voice sounds shaky and a little unhinged but August doesn't seem to notice. 

August glances around, trailing off as he sees Reverend Knapp stretching and patting his forehead as if checking for something before he ambles away, making the sign of the cross as he goes. "Yeah.....sure.....sure. Where's my squad car?"

* * *

 

At home he kicks off his boots, unbuttons his coat, removes his hat, and is hit by a wave of sleep, face planting on his bed. 

* * *

 

In the wood, the horseman rides to a clearing of  four white trees, his steed impatiently pawing the ground until he vanishes from sight. 

When he materializes, it is the sprawling black stone castle of his queen. She sits atop a clawed throne, with wild writhing red hair. Her eyes flash greedily. "Your excursion proved fruitful, Abraham." 

Within the enchanted walls, his head manifests where it wasn't before. He bows and then rummages in his coat and withdraws too gems. They float up out of his hand and zoom towards her. She rolls them between her fingers. She smiles fondly at him, stroking the green stone that hangs at her neck. "You have done well. Seven more to go." He nods tightly. 

"But who was the woman," she prods, twirling her hand around the scrying glass she keeps by her side. Her eyes narrow. "She destroyed my soldiers, and they would have been welcomed additions to my army. The cause could always use more" 

"I do not know, Queen Katrina,"

She purses her lips. "Well you got the prize, and that's what matters. But you keep an eye on her," she peers into the glass, replaying the fight she saw. The wings. " I do not like, surprises, Abraham."

"Then there will be none, my Queen." 

"Hmmph. See that there isn't."  

* * *

Jenny and Joe cock their heads when Abbie and Corbin enter. They both check the clock. 

"Dad we're closed,"

"Abbie what took so long dropping off a cat?"

"I couldn't tell you son, I....I blacked out, when I woke up I was in the grave yard---"

"The  _grave yard?_ " Joe cuts off. 

"I didn't drop off the cat,"

"What?"

"Shelter was closed,"

Joe shakes his head, moving to turn off the tv when a report breaks. 

_"Breaking News: Aliens?"_

The screen reads. Joe scoffs a laugh. "Oh boy wonder what they found on mars," he jokes.

They all start to laugh, except then the reporter is saying footage showed up of a winged being in the sky tonight. 

The video is grainy and half in shadow. 

But Abbie knows, that's her caught on the screen. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANNNND 
> 
> here's where the sailor moon mythology kicks in for those who know it. If you DON"T know sailor moon, approach this like a out of the box AU---I WILL explain every development, but I'm gonna go about writing this the way I see episodes happen in my head. 
> 
> Got questions? get at me. :) xo

Jenny eyes the cat strutting around the house and then glances up at her sister. "So you're taking her in tomorrow?"

Abbie makes a non comital sound as she shrugs out of her jacket and pads toward the kitchen. The cat switching its tail behind her. 

"Abbie?"

She opens the fridge door and plucks out the box of milk. She grabs an old bowl and turns around, waving it at the feline as if checking if its suitable fare. 

Jenny saunters in behind them, arms folded. "Abbie,"

"What?"

Her sister flings her arms in the air and rolls her eyes, gesturing to their house guest. "The cat? Are you taking her in---"

"No" Abbie shakes her head tightly. 

"No," Jenny asks and then her eyes go wide. "Wait. Are you saying we're going to keep her?"

"Yes" she grits out, pouring the bowl of milk she whirls around, "Here you go Gr--Jenny put her down!" 

In that split second Jenny has swung the cat up in her arms, nuzzling her fur. The cats eyes slit for a moment in annoyance before relaxing into an expression of calm and then downright indulgence as Jenny begins cooing at it. "Why" she counters. "She's so soft. Can we call her Snuggles?"

"Her name is Grace"

"How do you know?"

"Because----" Abbie falters. _Because the cat told me, obviously. You know, when she transformed into a woman. Before you fought the monsters_. "Because she's  _graceful._ Now put her down. She must be hungry."

Jenny wrinkles her nose. "Odd name for a cat," 

To which Grace hisses and Jenny places her back on the floor, backing away. "Look, you've bonded. Both of you moody." Abbie cuts her eye at her sister and places the bowl on the ground, watching as Grace prances over and begins lapping it up happily. Abbie sighs. 

"You've been working too hard and not sleeping enough." Jenny warns.

"When you get like this I start forgetting who's the elder around here,"

"Abbie."

"Is the milk good pretty kitty?"

Grace lifts her head, eyes narrowed in what must be a glare at the patronizing tone---but Abbie's main interest is getting the cat upstairs so they can have a frank chat about the events of tonight. 

 _Frank chat, with a cat._ She muses.  _Maybe you **are** overworked._

"Abbie I hear you  at night" Jenny  bursts into her thoughts. Abbie freezes and even Grace the cat stops lapping milk and drops onto her bottom, head cocked to the side in interest. 

"Nightmares Jenny that's all."

Jenny screws up her mouth in frustration watching as her sister bends to heft the cat in her arms and begins marching toward the stairs.

"I've seen you amidst terrors in your dreams, that's not it."

A pivot at the bottom of the stairs she back tracks a step to narrow her eyes. "You been spying on me?"

"Yes" Jenny admits baldly. "When you grumble and groan and kick about and I am the room next door I am going to get  up to come investigate why you're ruining my beauty sleep." 

She doesn't know how to explain it.

It hadn't been making sense to her during the past week, and in light of the bizarre events tonight, it's not any clearer now. She musters the nerve to be grateful she has a thoughtful, caring,  _deliberately invasive_ woman for a sister. Grudgingly admitting she can be the same way on occasion and calling "Sleep well Jenny" plants her foot on the first step and keeps her eyes straight ahead as she advances. 

Ignoring Jenny who comes out to scowl at her as she goes. Arms folded. "Stubborn mule" she hears her mutter. 

Grace purrs in agreement. 

* * *

When he blinks his eyes open the room is spinning. 

He's sprawled on his back on the bed. He bolts upright, patting his chest, his head, looking for the hat, the coat, but none are anywhere to be seen. Groaning he swings his feet out of bed and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, taking deep stabilizing breaths. He feels frazzled, he feels scattered. 

He feels like he'd better go book a flight and skip town.  _Do not go_ he hears the voice, her voice, the one of the Princess calling to him from the recesses of a fanciful dream.  _You dawdled so long the last time. And I have missed you._

"Damnit" he curses as he gets out the bed, glancing over his shoulder at the window through which moonlight pours in, cutting a swathe across the bed. Grumbling he crosses over and draws the curtain, shuttering him in shadow. "A dream" he assures himself groggily. "A dream and nothing more."

 _Your life long dream, Ichabod._ He shakes his head trying to rattle out the voice that seems intent to crawl into the very room with him.  _To belong_ she whispers and by then he is speeding down the steps into his cupboards and pouring himself a drink. He knocks back two of them to muffle his active imagination but now his stomach is being disagreeable and his head hurts. He sways and grasps the back of the kitchen chair, easing himself down into it. There is silence throughout the house. It hangs like a thick fog. When his guardian lived there would be the sound of the mans wheeze and snore, but that was a very long time ago. When he'd fled the first time, looking for an anchor, meaning, himself. 

All he'd  found abroad was ancient historical lineage. All he'd found was there was no one else in the world for him. He was the last of the branch. The last leaf. The candle left out in the cold with the dwindling flame, until he, too, was snuffed out. He'd been far from Sleepy Hollow then, desperate in his search for home and then submerging himself in his studies, four years away. 

_You dawdled so long the last time. And I have missed you._

He'd dreamed her on and off up to high school. And yes, while he'd been gone, her voice had gone dormant, even the image of her faded to nothing but wisps of mist, and since returning she hadn't come to him in dream for so long he had relegated  her to a passing phase. 

He's angry if anything about her renewed assault on him now. 

It had taken going away and coming back a staunch scholar to quell dreams and hopes of finding kinship, family.  Discovering he was alone in the world to at last accept that he was alone in this great massive damn world  and to become the bitter cynic a loner he bred himself to be. Why come to him now?

_You want._

"Damn it." he slams his fist on the table. "You're persistent aren't you?"

No response.

"Oh now you have nothing to say? You haunted me half my life with promise, prayed upon me for my broken heart, gave me courage to find myself and yield nothing in return. What do you want from me?" he demands. Weary, he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to be stirred up again to the point of wanting, craving, grasping for more. To believe. "You turned your back on me"

_**You** turned your back on  **me**_

_"You don't **get** to play the victim now madam **"**_ he hisses venomously. He stops and listens to himself. His lone voice in the still night. He's losing it. "If your quarry be my sanity rest assured you'll soon have it." he continues. "Perhaps that's what you have always wanted all along?"

 _I want to be free, Ichabod._ Her voice pleads. Something within him quakes. He has the distinct sense that this, vision, hallucination or whatever she may be has never sounded so vulnerable before.  _War, is coming . Please.I need your help to be free._  

 _Do not respond,_ he thinks. Turn away and go to bed and end this farce. Close the door on all this possibility for wildness and heartache. Make an appointment with your doctor. Perhaps it's time you went back on your anxiety medication. He strides out of the kitchen, back up the stairs, turning his mind instead to texts he hasn't finished reading, or chores for the next day. He aggressively hums bawdy tavern songs he'd heard from his travelling years, half done and out of tune. He lays down and closes his eyes and wills himself to enter a dark, still, stagnant realm of sleep. 

But a shimmering fog begins to curl in his mind and he can see her silhouette.  _I have never abandoned you._  

_I know what you look for. Help me, and you can have it._

"Go away" he commands softly. His brain crowds with a long unvisited memory of  a car running off the road. His being heavy with water. A mother dragged down into the depths, saving him.  _Alone_ He thinks to himself. It began then and a figment of his mind won't end it now. 

_Ichabod--_

**_"Go._ ** _**Away**."_

His mind goes silent. Sleep claims him

* * *

 

Abbie left a cat in her room while she went to shower and returned to Grace the woman sitting primly on her bed. "Okay." she starts as she rummages around for her sleep clothes. "Start talking."

"You are not from this world. You are scarcely of it. You are, a rare soldier. One of a elite army."

Abbie half listens as she hauls the shirt over her head. "We did the fighter talk already"

Grace bristles and gives Abbie a look of such fierce admonishment Abbie feels cowed. 

"Sorry," she musters. "You can imagine I'm put out by all of this though, right?"

Grace continues to look at her, thoroughly unimpressed. "An elite army." She rallies. "Soldiers brave, true. Who fought together to protect the world---the universe, really. Soldiers who never turned away from a fight. But rose, time and time again to the occasion. For every planet---"

"Excuse me?"

Grace's mouth twists at the interruption. "Did I not tell you, you are not from here?" 

"Then where----"

"Space, stars, the moon" she snaps irritably. "You are the Phoenix of the Moon."

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie struggles with Grace's revelation. 
> 
> Abbie has strange dreams too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments please!

There was a palace, burning. 

Screams of terror tearing through the night. The skies glimmered above. There was always so much noise. So much fear. Destruction. And there was always her mother's face, telling her how much she loves her---how sorry she is for what she's about to do---and then more flames, fluttering wings, and---

* * *

 

She wakes up.

These have been her dreams, this past week. 

She thrashes and grumbles not out of fright but confusion. Why was she there? Why was her mother sending her away? Where were they? 

She chalks it up to the fact that she never recovered from the sudden passing of their mother, even after so many years. Chalked up to stress between trying to get her act together for an album release among her myriad protests and demonstrations and speeches. 

Until last night, she thought they were a manifestation of stress. 

Now, as she slings her electric over her shoulder, tuning up and pushing her curls out of her eyes Abbie worries over Grace's fantastical and impossible declaration. 

* * *

 

"You are the Phoenix of the Moon"

" _What"_

Grace's eyes closed and she took a deep breath through her nose as if praying for strength. "Each planet," she said calmly, motioning for Abbie to sit on the bed next to her she took her hand. Whether to anchor herself while she delivered the news or to comfort Abbie, or both, she wasn't sure. "Each planet bore a soldier. A representative young woman of their people, braver than the rest, to be a chosen fighter, to wear the mantle of wings for war. They have always beaten back threats and foes posed by an evil entity called the Negaverse." Another deep breath, and a light pressure. Still unsure who the gesture is meant to help. "The Negaverse harbours all of the most wicked creatures you could have ever known. They are witches and demons and sorcerers---traitors to their home planets and to even this earth---they're soul drive is greed, destruction, to end the world and reign over the ruins. The Queen fought them."

"Queen?"

"Lori-Luna." Grace replies. "She was one before she ascended her throne. The Phoenix mantle has been passed down through her line for centuries. Resilience. Courage. She taught it to her subjects and all the young women who rose above expectations." Her eyes go misty. 

Insanity, Abbie's mind blares. Madness. Crock. Bull---"What happened?"

Grace chews her lip as tears stray down her face. "In spite of our fight, they grew strong. They came on a night of celebration. To destroy the chosen fighters and her Majesty. One from each planet, and an ambassador from Earth. He'd fallen in love with Lori-Luna's daughter." Grace's face continues to pinch and distort, showing how clearly painful the memory is for her to relive but she presses on. "She, _ignited._ " she summarizes. "It was unheard of, before then, to be called Phoenix was symbolic---a name only---but her fear for her daughters safety and her friends....her love and desire for the best of their world to live on---It struck within her. Shattered the imperial crystal, the only true power she had ever wielded until then, and her flame was so strong, Abigail," She was weeping now, but her eyes were fierce as she met Abbie's gaze. "So _strong_  it caught all the others. The remaining soldiers, and even the Champion from Earth, went up in flames. Caught on the ill tides of the invasion, carried them all to safety, here to Earth. To start fresh. To be reborn, rise from ash, like their namesake." 

"I don't believe any of this," Abbie had quaked. Refusing for a second to draw any tie to the dreams that had been plaguing her. "You've still made a mistake. I'd remember that. Why can't I---"

"For their safety their memories too were burned. Even her Majesty's. She thought to flee the wrath of the Negaverse inhabitants. So that no one would remember their past life. The destiny lost in flames, lightyears away." 

"If I entertain this. If they....I, escaped....what's happening now?"

"I can only guess they have become greedy, or depleted all of the resource out there in the galaxies, and turn to Earth now, to consume it, at last. Since being sent, I have been searching for any one of you. And I found,  _you_ Abbie. You are one."

"How can you know that!" Abbie fired back, riled. "How can you be so sure any of this ridiculous journey is mine?"

"You followed me."

"You were a pretty stray cat."

"You were the first and only one to follow me. Some part of you, in the depths of your mind, remembers."

Abbie turns away from the earnest look on Grace's face. She still doesn't understand. If she's a.....'soldier' is Jenny one too?  Did they come from the same planet?---how can she even consider believing any of this? "What happened to the Queen. Her daughter?"

Grace shakes her head. "I have not been able to track them. The identity of the Princess---her memories and her powers won't be revealed until we can repair the crystal."

"Those gems," Abbie starts, remembering the stones that had floated out of August and the Reverend Knapp. "Are those---" Grace continues to nod. 

"Nine in total." she concedes. "The fragments buried themselves in those who possessed virtues that were an integral part of the life we knew before. To hide them, keep them safe. But in the Negaverse hunt for power and dominance, they aim to harvest them, and turn those who carried the pieces into monstrous slaves for their cause. You saw it happen tonight."

"If I believe this." Abbie says solemnly, consigning herself to absolute insanity. "what am I supposed to do?"

"Find the others. Repair the Crystal. Summon the Princess. Defeat agents of the Negaverse."

"In other words, save the world."

The corner of Grace's mouth turns up in a small smile. "That sounds about right." 

* * *

 

Lightly, Abbie's fingers skim through the chords, humming as she goes. She writes folk, she writes rock and some rough edged new aged soul. She makes noise, makes a racket, makes her voice heard fighting for her rights, others. Trying to evoke change. 

Should she take an insane chance to impact the world as what, a super hero? They were still rolling footage on the television this morning of an 'Alien sighting'  What does it mean, who are these creatures what else will they want? 

How is she supposed to find these other Phoenixes? Phoeni?  What's the plural for a rejuvenating bird, galactic soldier....thing? 

"If this is a dream," she sings softly, crooning to herself alone. "I wanna wake up. If this is a nightmare chase me out of slumber into day. If this is a dream, don't let me stay here. This fight of wings and light cannot be mine." she stops, reaching up for the book pendant at her throat. "If this is a dream," she prays, " _Please let me wake up_ " 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the sailor moon arc, the negaverse from where all the wicked big bads come. 
> 
> The Moon Queen--my Lori-Luna, sent the scouts to earth to be safe during this invasion. 
> 
> The crystal has ties to the SH mythology if you squint.
> 
> got questions, get at me :)

**Author's Note:**

> I think we all know what Abbie finds here.....but if we follow sailor moon canon, this would be the first encounter with a monster harvesting energy so....and usually these monsters arise from regular characters being possessed so....maybe there's hope?


End file.
